


In which Gil doesn't know what he's feeling

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: unreliable narrators [6]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Mid-Canon, Multi, this scene happened because Phil drew a weird line and I had too much fun with it, writing with a migraine is always an adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 00:24:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14032122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: ...which is not out of the ordinary in any way.





	In which Gil doesn't know what he's feeling

_Totally applicable_. Gil had hoped to get a rise out of Tarvek, irritation perhaps, or scorn, or any indication of wounded pride. Instead, Tarvek merely nodded along. He would agree to being equated with princesses? Really? That seemed… off, somehow. Gil wondered what he might be playing at. 

With an expression unnervingly reminiscent of his father about to mete out punishment, Trelawney Thorpe turned away. Their fate hung upon her decision. Unconsciously, automatically, Gil caught at Tarvek’s hand. In that moment, the years fell away. The movement felt as natural as it had when they were children, “sneaking” past Jägers, hiding in closets, fearing capture. Tarvek gripped his hand, gave a reassuring squeeze, as though nothing had ever parted them. As though Gil had not lived nearly two decades missing this piece of himself.

“Yes. Well,” Trelawney Thorpe was saying. “I imagine Her Majesty will find the whole thing  _hilarious_.”

Gil released Tarvek’s hand before she could see. “Is that… good?” In his uncertainty, he caught at Tarvek’s shoulder. He kept reaching for this man, just as he had when they were young, and for the same reason: if this plan goes down in flames, at least we crash and burn together. It felt oddly reassuring. 

“Oh, yes.” Ms. Thorpe led the way to the wardrobe. “She often says that by  _her_  age, a person learns to welcome the ridiculous,” she said, giving Tarvek the perfect opportunity to needle Gil some more. Gil returned fire. It felt good. Friendly. 

The conversation took a more political turn while Tarvek handed Gil clothing. Black shirt, black pants, a red waistcoat that smelled faintly of Tarvek’s hair oil…  _Have you already planned this outfit?_  Gil wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to disrupt the discussion. 

Then Tarvek jabbed his fingers into Gil’s ears. 

“Ow!” Gil objected, more out of surprise than pain. 

He was winding up to make a scene when Ms. Thorpe asked what they would do if Agatha declined to join them. The bottom dropped out of his world. Why… why wouldn’t she? The three of them needed to work together. To fix things. To free Mechanicsburg. To stop the disaster his father had initiated. To defeat the Other. No one could do all of that alone. He should know—he had tried. They needed each other. 

And Gil hated the thought of being alone again. The memory of the last two and a half years burned like acid and tasted like bile. He wanted to bury it and start over, to pick up where they had all left off when he had left Castle Heterodyne. When there had still been light in the world. 

Tarvek threw an arm around his shoulders. “Well, at least we have each other,” he said with one of his wicked grins. Gil couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” He kicked one foot up to tie his boot. Maybe it was. He caught Ms. Thorpe poorly concealing her amusement at them. 

“Ugh, I wish we had time to find you a barber before you meet Her Majesty.” Tarvek pushed some hair back from Gil’s face, and Gil’s heart nearly stopped at the gentle familiarity of the touch. He wanted to wrap his arms around Tarvek, to bury his face against his shoulder, to command him never to leave again. They were a team, dammit. The two of them against the world. Always. Mindful of their audience, Gil wrinkled his nose and gave a little shake of his head. 

“At least you’re not trying to strike matches on my face.”

“I'm… what?” Tarvek stared at him in horrified confusion before the truth began to dawn on him. Gil nodded. 

“That’s how Captain DuPree lets me know that she thinks I need a shave,” he said. 

“Huh.” Tarvek gave him a thoughtful look. “Maybe I can get her in on the haircut campaign.”

“Oho, no! Knowing her, she’ll just light my head on fire!”

Tarvek smirked at him. “With a match she’s struck on your face?”

“You are a terrible person,” Gil said, “and I have grave concerns about the two of you becoming friends.” He didn’t mean a word of it, not really, so he stole a glance at Tarvek, hoping he had not offended. Not about this. If they were friends, then Tarvek would be safer. 

To his great relief, Tarvek grinned at him. “You’re doomed.”

Probably. 

Gil wondered if he could live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> [Behold, the weird line that entertained me for _days on end_.](http://bethany-sensei.tumblr.com/post/171922731584/ok-so-as-best-i-can-figure-this-panel-only-makes)


End file.
